Across the Ocean (10 page)

I
’m suddenly scared shitless and completely woken up to Brooke’s loud, obnoxious moans. I almost knock Brooke off of me when my body spasms awake. Wait, not Brooke.
What the fuck
? Lára is the one fucking me, making these atrocious sounds. Why is she making these sounds?
She sounds like a dying cat.

The shock from the sudden wake up and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on is really throwing me for a loop. My cock starts to lose his steam.
I don’t blame him
. Lára is really not doing it for me with these terrible sounds and motions she’s making.

She seems to notice the fact that I
’m losing my hard on and doubles her efforts instead of backing off, flailing around like a crazed lunatic.
Wow, this is really disgusting
. I just lay there with wide eyes and look up at her in total disbelief until the light bulb goes on in my brain. She’s putting on a show and I can only assume it’s for Brooke’s benefit.

I use
my hands to still her crazy movements before I push her over and off of me. I easily slide out of her and I pull the covers over myself as protection from further attempts.

Wearing a frown of utter confusion, I raise a hand in bewilderment.

“What the fuck is this, Lára? Are we playing games now?” My confusion is quickly turning into anger. It pisses me off that Lára would try to make things more uncomfortable for Brooke. It’s obviously been awkward enough for her.

“What do you care, Ari? Do you still have feelings for her? You shouldn
’t care if she hears us making love.” I cringe a little at the combination of her saying “making love” in accompaniment with the sneer on her face.

“Whatever that was, it definitely wasn
’t love making. I’m not interested in making a fool of ourselves in front of someone who is a good friend of mine.” I lie flat on my back and cover my eyes with my arm. I’m mortified. I bet Brooke heard all of Lára’s awful show. Also, feeling more protective of Brooke’s feelings, rather than trying to ease Lára’s insecurities is something that I notice.

Brooke is probably thinking that I
’m a total douche bag. I wouldn’t blame her. She probably isn’t a huge fan of Lára either. I’ve never seen Lára behave like this and I wonder if she has done other things to make Brooke uncomfortable. Not to mention me. I feel uncomfortable.
And dirty
.

“You
’re in love with her, aren’t you? You’re just going to up and leave me for her, huh?” Lára rolls her eyes at me, scoffing a bit. Who the fuck is this girl in front of me? Her British accent is even grating on my nerves right now.

“She
’s going to leave soon, you know, but I’m still going to be here. She just needs a reminder that you’re taken.” Nodding to herself, she slides out of bed and slips a pair of panties on.

I
’ve never been so grateful for her to put clothes on. At least now I know she won’t try to pull anything else like that for a little while.

My brain keeps taking me back to one thought, and it
’s that Brooke would never play silly games like this. She’s too honest and sensitive to other people’s feelings. I never would have thought that Lára would be such a catty bitch. She’s always been so good to me.

Jealousy can bring out the ugly in people.
In a way, I guess I can’t blame her. She doesn’t know it, but Lára is completely right to feel jealous.
Obviously
. I just wish she wouldn’t stoop so low. Maybe if she were to just talk to me about it. I guess I should try to soothe the situation. That’s what a good boyfriend does. I hear the front door to the house open and close and figure that Brooke has headed outside.

“Lára, you don
’t need to play games like this. You and I are already together. You don’t need to tell her to back off like this. It only brings question to your own character. Plus, it’s really embarrassing for me.”

“You
’ve got to be kidding me, Ari. It’s embarrassing for me to watch you two.” She turns and heads out of the bedroom.

I really don
’t have anything to say in response, anyways. She’s right. Brooke and I are strange around each other, especially when we are with our friends.

I suppose I wish that Lára would be more sympathetic or helpful
toward the situation, rather than so negative about it. I can’t say I would be any different, though, if our situations were reversed.

This whole thing really blows
.

******

MSN Chat

2005

Brooke is in Indiana.

salemsme:
Hey, are you around? I need someone to talk to.

marxist:
Yeah, I’m awake. What’s wrong?

salemsme:
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about Tommy. He says he loves me, but he is making this whole relationship an awful lot of fucking work for me. How long am I supposed to deal with it before I say that enough is enough? Don’t I deserve better? How do I know if he is the one? It shouldn’t be such a struggle. Right?

marxist:
Of course you deserve better. I don’t understand how he cannot realize what a gift he has been given. If it were me, you would never question how I felt about you. Real love is something that doesn’t allow you to treat the ones you love like that.

salemsme:
Have you ever been in love?

marxist:
Yeah. I have.

salemsme:
Lucky bitch. What’s her name and how do I go about switching lives with her?

marxist:
Her name isn’t important. We were talking about you. Besides, you’re closer than you realize.

salemsme:
What a cryptic thing to say. Are you implying that you are in love with me? Or that you’re in love with someone I know?

marxist:
I’ve gotta go. Catch you later.

salemsme:
Arg! Don’t leave me hanging like this!

marxist has signed out

salemsme:
You’re not the only one who feels that way.

Present Day

Ugh, I have the most disgusting taste in my mouth. I hate waking up with a hangover. Fortunately, I think it is limited to a pounding headache, and I might actually escape without throwing up. In case you were curious, I’ve always been one to mostly dry heave when vomiting, and let me tell you that it is really, really unpleasant.

Blinking and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes with my hand, I stretch my legs under my covers, and try to get my bearing again.

Ah shit. Memories from last night suddenly flood me. No, that wasn’t a dream and today we are going to have to face each other. Frankly, this whole ordeal is getting a bit ridiculous. Of course I have intense feelings for Ari, but I can’t be that woman who stands there while he is with another woman. If Ari wanted me, he would be with me, right? Isn’t that the way it works? You love someone and then you are with them. What do I know, anyways?

Tommy was a really fucking shitty boyfriend that I had to deal with for three years. I poured my heart into a relationship with him
. I even left my hometown at the ripe young age of 19 to move to Indiana so I could be nearer to him. He ho-hummed quite a bit about what labels we had for each other and dragged his feet during the whole relationship, all the while telling me he loved me.

Being young and stupid, I thought I was truly in love.
He literally wore me out. I had absolutely nothing left to give him at the end of our relationship. We were resentful and hateful toward each other, and it was a terribly vile situation to be in.

There were nights that Tommy would sit on the couch watching his TV shows
and drinking beer after fucking beer. I never realized how much of an alcoholic he was until we eventually moved in together. That was probably the biggest mistake of all, because once he became drunk, he would follow me around the house and yell at me about god knows what. He would just harass the shit out of me. I’d never really know what it was he was getting on about. More than once, I would run to my car in the garage and lock the door. That didn’t stop him, though. He’d come to the door and threaten to break the window to my car if I didn’t get out.

Let me just say that Tommy was a nice guy, but he let his dark side take over.
He never fully recovered from losing his mother and brother at a young age. All of this was his coping mechanism and in the end, I just couldn’t handle it anymore. Also, I didn’t deserve it.

Back in 2005, Tommy and I took a trip to California to visit my family. It was the first time
he met my parents and everyone. I remember being so excited. Unfortunately, most of the trip was terribly awkward.

During part of
it, we took a weekend to stay in Catalina Island, which is a boat ride across from Newport Beach near Los Angeles. We had a friend who was working there for the summer, so we got a special rate on our hotel.

All was great until the first night when Tommy got piss
-ass drunk. He started screaming and flailing his arms at me in our hotel room because he didn’t understand a joke I had made toward his friend. He kept grabbing my arms and pushing me all over the room, screaming god knows what in a drunken stupor. Several times he threw me to the ground. I was horrified and I ended up calling my step mother in tears.

Unfortunately, another guest in the hotel
called the cops on us because, apparently, we were making a lot of noise. Between his yelling and my crying, I’m not surprised. The cops came to our door, and I had to stifle my crying long enough to convince them that everything was ok and that I wasn’t in any danger.

I had no idea if I was still in danger with Tommy, but I couldn
’t have him getting arrested, right?
Ah, the mindset of a young woman
. Or, at least mine. Hopefully, there are much smarter women than I was.

I remember some of my friends in San Diego
telling me that I appeared “off” or “strange” when I visited them. When I pushed them to explain what that really meant, they said that the personality they had grown to love in me seemed stifled, or completely gone. They were worried about me, and it seems that they had a good reason to.

My relationship with Tommy was obviously toxic.
Good riddance that it’s done and over with now, because I’m really not sad about it at all. The day we decided we were over was the day that I felt rejuvenated and independent again.

Our sex life had been terrible due to all of his verbal abuse. He would mock me and tear me down. I think that for the last year of our relationship, we didn
’t have sex a single time. Not a good sign for a relationship, I think.

I can
’t blame it all on Tommy. I came to him damaged. I had been raped right before I had moved to Indiana. Not just by one guy, but by three. I’m just a petite little thing, so being overwhelmed by three large guys isn’t such a hard feat. Bastards.

I had gone to a “party” a band was having that my friend Tara had asked me to drive her to.
I was only newly 19 and was up for any kind of partying. I’m not (and wasn’t then, either) a big drinker, and I did call my step mom that night to tell her I would be drinking and probably would be staying the night at the party. I wasn’t a hugely irresponsible person, so she had no reason to not trust me.

There were four guys in the band, and we all drank, drank, and drank. After a few hours, my friend Tara decides it
’s a great idea to head to the store with one of the band mates to grab some snacks. Seemed harmless at the time but hindsight is a motherfucker.

One of the guys was actually pretty attractive. I don
’t even remember what he looks like anymore, to be honest. I just remember he seemed sweet and innocent, and I liked that. He told me he was a virgin. I wasn’t, so I thought it was adorable.

After we felt that our flirting had progressed fast enough, we were soon
making out. All of it seems pretty harmless. If I remember correctly, he was a good kisser. That part was fun. The fun stopped there.

The creepy band member of the bunch, the one who was overbearing and seemed to think he was in charge, came up to us and attempted to insert himself into our kiss. Of course, I was unimpressed and told him I was uninterested. He continued to persist.

There are a lot of patchy memories after that. The highlights that I remember include Creepy Guy attempting to pull my pants down right there on the living room couch, with all three guys hanging out. I very clearly said no, several times, and struggled to get away. This guy, though, had other plans. This included forcing his tongue down my throat, amongst other things.
Yuck.

The third band member (I
’ll call him Hoodie, because I don’t remember his name and I managed to steal his hoodie when I was heading out the door, so it seems fitting) ended up coming in to attempt to steal a kiss from me, but I still was not interested. Turning my head away and verbally stating “No” more than once doesn’t seem to mean much to some people!